I lost it. I lost my fudking zest for life, my wiring is burned out, I feel like a happy meal without the happy. I'm f*&ked. My bills are skyrocketing, I have no money and I'm seriously considering selling my home. My counselling is knocking me out and I can barely stand to be alive. I'm depressed, I want to go to bed all the time and sleep a million years, or at least till its all over...whats all over? The mayhem, the struggle, the chaos, the pain. I'm so tired. I want certain members of my family out of my life and I want some emotional comfort.
Hollow, thats what it is, hollow. An outward appearance that is normal, but underneath, hollow.
Anyone with spare mojo should send to www.jeezi'mnotfeelingit.com
Thanks in advance, whateva.
h2
Saturday, 22 September 2007
Thursday, 13 September 2007
Monday, 10 September 2007
IMU
I miss u horribly, I wish I didnt but I do. I want to fill the void that is u, I think too much about what you're doing, how ur day is, what ur thinking. I get busy and the hours churn passed, but as I stop and take time to have lunch or a cup of tea, I think of you. The heart wants what the heart wants, until it wants no more.
Sunday, 9 September 2007
Childhood and the realm of all beasts
I am the product of my childhood, where all my fears and survival tactics were created and shaped, to manifest themselves in the adult I am today.
Some of those fears are in full bloom, my fear of committment, marriage and partnership. My fear that I will turn out like my parents (just knowing this fact will stop me from becoming them, but still I persist with this thought and it lurks in my mental closet, like a giant black spider)
My harshness for others and my judgement of those around me, just as my parents did and probably their parents before them. I have no solution for my sharpness and distain. All I know is that it makes me desperately unhappy and I'm tired of it. If I am sharp then I am met with sharpness from others. No wonder Mr Kind and Right hasn't shown up...:)
I dig into my past and try and find the root of these problems, grab them by the base and pull as hard as I can, trying to make them loosen their grip on me...but maybe that is a large part of the problem. Not owning them and holding them close to me, accepting them as part of me?
My childhood was largely unhappy. If I remember back I recall that I was very quiet. I remember small things that let me know that I lacked any type of confidence. I remember crying for what seemed like the first two weeks of school, the teacher trying to shame me into stopping by making me stand in front of the class while they sat on the mat. It didnt make me stop, I just cried more and more, until he yelled at me to stand in the corner facing the wall. That didnt stop me either, this went on for days until I was finally sent up into the attic to the head teachers office. I dont know what happened up there, but I think something did, I stopped crying thats for sure. I was 5. I dont know what teachers were taught back then, but I do think he was a prick of a teacher. I remember having very few friends, maybe one? I remember eating lunch alone, with a lump in my throat the size of a grapefruit (well it "felt" that size) and not being able to eat my peanut butter sandwiches. To this day I dont enjoy peanut butter sandwiches.
For all of you out there that has a child within that is lonely, afraid or scared. Be gentle and be kind. We are a product of our childhood, but we can overcome :) I'm working my little brain as hard as I can to get to the source and purge it once and for all, so that the beasts can finally become just plain old animals on a farm and no longer stampeding through my dreams gnashing and clawing at me. I let them free.
Love an peace y'all
h20
Some of those fears are in full bloom, my fear of committment, marriage and partnership. My fear that I will turn out like my parents (just knowing this fact will stop me from becoming them, but still I persist with this thought and it lurks in my mental closet, like a giant black spider)
My harshness for others and my judgement of those around me, just as my parents did and probably their parents before them. I have no solution for my sharpness and distain. All I know is that it makes me desperately unhappy and I'm tired of it. If I am sharp then I am met with sharpness from others. No wonder Mr Kind and Right hasn't shown up...:)
I dig into my past and try and find the root of these problems, grab them by the base and pull as hard as I can, trying to make them loosen their grip on me...but maybe that is a large part of the problem. Not owning them and holding them close to me, accepting them as part of me?
My childhood was largely unhappy. If I remember back I recall that I was very quiet. I remember small things that let me know that I lacked any type of confidence. I remember crying for what seemed like the first two weeks of school, the teacher trying to shame me into stopping by making me stand in front of the class while they sat on the mat. It didnt make me stop, I just cried more and more, until he yelled at me to stand in the corner facing the wall. That didnt stop me either, this went on for days until I was finally sent up into the attic to the head teachers office. I dont know what happened up there, but I think something did, I stopped crying thats for sure. I was 5. I dont know what teachers were taught back then, but I do think he was a prick of a teacher. I remember having very few friends, maybe one? I remember eating lunch alone, with a lump in my throat the size of a grapefruit (well it "felt" that size) and not being able to eat my peanut butter sandwiches. To this day I dont enjoy peanut butter sandwiches.
For all of you out there that has a child within that is lonely, afraid or scared. Be gentle and be kind. We are a product of our childhood, but we can overcome :) I'm working my little brain as hard as I can to get to the source and purge it once and for all, so that the beasts can finally become just plain old animals on a farm and no longer stampeding through my dreams gnashing and clawing at me. I let them free.
Love an peace y'all
h20
Wednesday, 5 September 2007
The bottomless bucket
I've been seeing a counsellor for the last two weeks.
Just a short diversion for anyone who happens to read this and have never been to a counsellor. Counsellors are paid ears. Say and voice all of your crap in the time you have because you are paying for it. Use every second to dissect and wrestle with your demons, they are paid to assist you and give you perspective on your life BUT you must participate and be open to all that you reveal and learn. Bear your soul and become alive, rush in where the angels fear to tread and shine a light on all of your internal horrors, you will survive, you already have:)
I dont understand people who go to see a counsellor and say nothing, twiddle their thumbs and wonder why they dont feel helped or relieved. I go into every session with a mental list of what I want to talk about, things that I want to tear apart and put back together, explore my glitches and my weaknesses, my darkness and my light, my sorrows and my sleepless beast.
In the past week I have cried in the middle of shopping for bread, while talking to warehouse owners, factory managers, in the local shop and while eating dinner. I thought I was doing so well, I seriously pondered that and really believed that I was coping, really coping. Deluded is the word I would use to describe myself, deluded with a smile. Of course there is massive grief, I am not coping, I cry. I am in denial:) A safe bubble of nothingness, where no emotion exists and there is no pressure to function beyond getting up and greeting those around me with enough conviction to get by. My she's coping well I hear them say ......my my my what a load of bullocks.
Its ok now, I realise that I just had shut it all away, put my emotions in a locked box and pretended that there was no pain. There is pain, there are tears, there are moments of great sadness, I am grieving. I cry to release, I cry to express my pain, I cry because it feels better, I cry to expend that awful energy that hangs with my grief. I rage and I rant and I cry.
I do it because I want to feel better.
I am exhausted tonight, I am tired because I opened so many boxes and looked inside with horror and sadness. I remembered and my heart broke all over again. I am applying salve as we speak. My wounds are raw and painful but I know they are healing.
Sleep, sleep, turning down the volume on the parts of me that live in disquiet. Hush, those parts of me that shiver and whine. Sleep, be gentle and sleep.
Just a short diversion for anyone who happens to read this and have never been to a counsellor. Counsellors are paid ears. Say and voice all of your crap in the time you have because you are paying for it. Use every second to dissect and wrestle with your demons, they are paid to assist you and give you perspective on your life BUT you must participate and be open to all that you reveal and learn. Bear your soul and become alive, rush in where the angels fear to tread and shine a light on all of your internal horrors, you will survive, you already have:)
I dont understand people who go to see a counsellor and say nothing, twiddle their thumbs and wonder why they dont feel helped or relieved. I go into every session with a mental list of what I want to talk about, things that I want to tear apart and put back together, explore my glitches and my weaknesses, my darkness and my light, my sorrows and my sleepless beast.
In the past week I have cried in the middle of shopping for bread, while talking to warehouse owners, factory managers, in the local shop and while eating dinner. I thought I was doing so well, I seriously pondered that and really believed that I was coping, really coping. Deluded is the word I would use to describe myself, deluded with a smile. Of course there is massive grief, I am not coping, I cry. I am in denial:) A safe bubble of nothingness, where no emotion exists and there is no pressure to function beyond getting up and greeting those around me with enough conviction to get by. My she's coping well I hear them say ......my my my what a load of bullocks.
Its ok now, I realise that I just had shut it all away, put my emotions in a locked box and pretended that there was no pain. There is pain, there are tears, there are moments of great sadness, I am grieving. I cry to release, I cry to express my pain, I cry because it feels better, I cry to expend that awful energy that hangs with my grief. I rage and I rant and I cry.
I do it because I want to feel better.
I am exhausted tonight, I am tired because I opened so many boxes and looked inside with horror and sadness. I remembered and my heart broke all over again. I am applying salve as we speak. My wounds are raw and painful but I know they are healing.
Sleep, sleep, turning down the volume on the parts of me that live in disquiet. Hush, those parts of me that shiver and whine. Sleep, be gentle and sleep.
Monday, 3 September 2007
Love that song
Apologise by OneRepublic and Timbaland, love it....http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fm0T7_SGee4
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